And So It Goes
by CynthiaWeasley
Summary: Angst-ridden, Hermione-centric coming of age with a fair dose of Severus thrown in for good measure. Very dark in places but not without its lighter moments.
1. Prologue Storm Front

Disclaimers: All standard disclaimers apply. All characters herein are property of the incomparable JK Rowling and company. Do not confuse my meager offerings with her genius. This is done for fun, no money made, not worth suing me over, trust me. This is an adult piece written for adult audiences. It will be DARK. Please choose your reading material carefully. That being said, enjoy!

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For Kris, mmm…jello.

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Prologue Storm Front

Hermione hated potions. It was just that simple. She could get everything absolutely perfect and it still wouldn't be "up to Mr. Malfoy's standard". Rubbish. Mr. Malfoy couldn't live up to her standard;****it's just that blasted potions master was too busy favoring Slytherins to notice.

So there she sat. Located in the back row of the dungeon, she hoped that Ron had enough sense to not blow anything up today. Snape looked more foul than usual. As she added the last eye of newt, Hermione caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. Seamus was trying to discreetly flash a handful of fireworks at Ron. This was the last class before exams. Were they so intent on getting detention right before the holiday? Hermione gave Seamus a dirty look. He shot a look back that distinctly said, "I wasn't talking to _you_." She sat down with a book to study for her exams as the potion reduced, trying to ignore the impending mischief.

"Excuse me for a moment, Hermione, I think I need to go ask Seamus' opinion on this last potion ingredient." Ron's grin was breaking through his serious façade.

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione started in under her breath, "Do you want to get expelled half way through your six year? Look at Snape, he's ready to let someone have it and you seem determined that it be you."

As she was finishing this tirade, however, Ron slipped off. She put her nose back in the book. As she was beginning a new chapter she heard a loud bang erupt from the front of the room. Her eyes raised momentarily, just long enough to see that a large cloud of laughing gas was encompassing the Slytherins. In the midst of the chaos, Hermione failed to notice that Ron had left some of his ammo behind, tucked underneath her parchment.

The disarray began to settle around her, but Hermione didn't care. Her potion had another half hour until it would be ready and she was determined to make good use of the time. Just as she was finally getting her full concentration back the book was ripped from her hands. She jumped and looked up to find a certain ill-humored professor glaring down at her. He reached under her parchment and grabbed the laughing gas grenades that were protruding ever so slightly.

"Apparently everyone has decided to get in on the holiday frivolity this year," he sneered at her. "I should expect it of you, however, consorting with the Potter and Weasley crowd."

Shocked by the accusation Hermione simply stuttered and found herself frozen by his icy stare.

"No words of self defense? Twenty points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger, and I will see you in detention tonight after dinner. I do hope you enjoy cleaning dungeons."

"Wait, that's not fair!" Hermione finally found her voice.

"You have been caught with the evidence and so you will be paying the consequences. Perhaps you should choose your friends more carefully." And with that he turned, his cape billowing behind him, and stalked toward his office.

"Hermione, we're so sorry," Ron and Seamus exclaimed, running over to her. "We never meant to-"

"Rob me of a critical night of studying for exams!?!"****she yelled in a voice reminiscent of a howler.

From somewhere behind her a little voice, which sounded remarkably like Neville Longbottom's, said, "Well if anyone can afford to miss a little studying it's her."

* * *

Hermione dragged her feet. This was not at all a common thing for her. But the thought of spending a perfectly good evening stuffed in a dungeon with Snape was not her idea of a good time. Ron. What had he been thinking? He owed her for this.

She found herself hovering at the door to the potions room. Well, she was here. Might as well get this over with. The room was colder what usual. Between the natural chill of the evening that settled into the castle and the lack of warm bodies, she found herself pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders.

He was sitting at his desk. A variety of parchments were spread about and he appeared to be studying them intently. On the corner of his desk sat a plate with a half-eaten sandwich and some very limp steamed vegetables. A glass of hot pumpkin juice sat steaming at his right hand. As she got closer she caught a whiff and realized it wasn't just pumpkin juice. Hermione was first put off by the idea, but on second thought she understood how the cold down here could require a little something extra. 

"Nice to see that you've decided to join me, Ms. Granger." Hermione frowned ever so slightly. She hadn't dawdled _that_ much. "I've decided to relieve you of cleaning duty and allow you to file my research instead." He stood up unceremoniously and gestured for her to follow him into his office. 

Inside there were piles of parchments covering every table in addition to the rather large desk. "This is my research from the last semester. With preparing the final exams I haven't had a chance to organize it yet." He then proceeded to explain to her his elaborate filing system. Hermione stood there nodding, thinking to herself all the while, _here is a guy who needs a computer_. "Oh, and Ms. Granger, there will be no magic used in your task this evening. To insure this I'll need your wand." He held out his hand expectantly. Hesitant to give this up, Hermione cautiously removed it from her robe and handed it to him.

The hours seemed to take days. Hermione would occasionally glance up from her filing and watch Snape as he worked in his storeroom. He seemed to be reorganizing ingredients used in memory potions. The cold was beginning to get to her. Her fingers ached and the tip of her nose felt as if it had frozen. Almost done. 80%. 90%. To keep herself awake through the monotony she calculated her progress in her head.

98%. 99%. 100%. There. Done. She looked up and paused to watch Snape as he continued his task. He had been working for hours without a break and showed no signs of stopping.

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CRASH. Everything shook. _Peeves._ Undoubtedly wreaking havoc to irritate Filch again. Snape reached out to steady the bottle in front of him and then continued working without looking up. But as Hermione watched the shelves directly behind Snape began to rock. _CRASH._ He still didn't look up, apparently used to the disturbances. The shelves behind him were rocking more violently now. They were about to dump their glass jars full of Merlin-knows-what directly onto his head.

She reached instinctively for her wand. It wasn't there. _Damn._ He had it. Without thinking she ran into the storeroom. She reached up and pushed the offending jars back into place, running into Snape in the process.

He whirled around, nearly knocking her to the ground. "What exactly do you think you're doing, Ms. Granger?" he demanded, clearly quite irritated, "This is not the place for horseplay."

"The jars," Hermione replied, slightly out of breath, "They were going to fall on you." Suddenly aware of their close proximity, she took a step back to create more space between them.

"And you've suddenly forgotten you're a witch? What happened to your levitation skills I've heard so much about?"

Hermione frowned and remarked dryly, "You have my wand."

He stood taken aback for the briefest moment. "And you didn't consider telling me instead of rushing in to try and solve the problem single-handedly?"

"I didn't think…"

"Clearly. You, Ms. Granger, have been spending too much time with Mr. Potter, I'm afraid." Snape reached into his robe and pulled out her wand. Hermione snatched it from his hand before rushing out of the room.

* * *

Hermione went straight to her room. A usual fixture in the Gryffindor common room, she was too frustrated to deal with any interruptions tonight. She climbed the stairs higher and higher until she got to her single room at the top level of Gryffindor tower. Being a prefect had its privileges and, as much as Hermione like Parvati and Lavender, she really did relish having some space to herself. 

Immediately Hermione went about collecting the books she would need for the night's study session. She piled them in neat stacks on her desk and then plopped down on her chair. But her mind wasn't ready to study. She blushed when she thought about how she had let Snape intimidate her like that. He was a professor, but he was also just a person. Having worked so closely with Dumbledore in the ongoing fight against Voldemort, Hermione was beginning to see eye to eye with the adults that surrounded her.

Now that she sat there thinking about it, she thought it odd that Snape's office had been so bare. Most of the professors had pictures of family or friends, or least pets. But his office had lacked any personal touches. One would think he'd have a picture with the Malfoys, for all that he favored Draco, but the whole scene had been quite generic.

Shaking her head, Hermione reached for her arithmancy book and opened it. Something was still nagging at the back of her mind, though. Looking up at the clock she suddenly realized how much time she'd lost in detention and decided she didn't have time for foolishness now. She could consider tonight's events later; now she had to work.

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She suddenly felt a hand rest ever so gently on her shoulder. The person leaned down and buried their face in her hair, clearly inhaling her very scent. Turning, she could only see someone standing there in a black robe, a hood covering the face. Hermione tried to say something, but a hand went to her lips, silencing whatever she had to say. Curious to find out the identity of her visitor, Hermione stood, finding herself quite close to his body. The person was clearly a him and his breath was warm against her cheek.

He leaned down and kissed her ever so gently. Hermione found herself melting, draping her arms around his neck. He picked her up, carrying her delicately to the bed. Laying her down, he sat on the edge and leaned down to kiss her again…

But he suddenly cleared his throat. That was hardly romantic.****Hermione started and realized that she had fallen asleep on her book. She had been dreaming, but then who-? The noise came again and Hermione looked around her room. As her eyes came to the door she found herself looking at a certain potions master. What was _he_ doing here? Hermione knew about the secret passage ways that allowed teachers access to all the dormitories, but no one ever used them. She shook her head, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"Hard at work again, I see, Ms. Granger," He said as he strode in and walked up to her. In the back of her mind Hermione wondered if she'd been talking in her sleep. Agh, she hoped not. The very thought made her blush a deep crimson.

"What are you doing here?" She asked groggily, not at all concerned with formalities considering the fact that he was standing in her bedroom. _What was he doing in her bedroom?_

"I believe you have something of mine. I'd like it back if you don't mind," he said frankly.

Hermione couldn't figure out what he was talking about and stared at him blankly.

"In your haste to leave detention I offered you the wrong wand. I believe you are in possession of my wand, and I of yours."

Hermione blinked and reached into her robe. She pulled out a wand and realized that, indeed, she had snatched his in her rush out the door.

Standing to hand it back to him, she found him also taking a step closer so as to save her the trouble of getting up. For the second time that evening, Hermione found herself eye to eye with Professor Snape. This time they held the gaze for just a moment before he took a step back. He took the wand from her hand and set hers in its place. This done he turned to leave. After having taken a few steps, however, he stopped. Swiveling about he looked her in the eye once more and said, "I also meant to thank you for preventing the loss of some of my ingredients earlier this evening. They are****quite valuable and would have been difficult to replace." This having been said, Professor Snape turned and made his typical dramatic exit, complete with billowing cape.

This evening was going nowhere. Hermione walked over to her door and, shutting it, went about readying herself for bed. If she was going to sleep, it might as well be time well spent in bed.

That night, as Hermione climbed into bed, she pulled the covers around her. As she drifted off it occurred to her that she had never seen the man's face in her dream. Probably just a representation of someone she wanted to meet. Her social life at Hogwarts lacked a dating relationship of any length. Her closeness to Harry and Ron scared off most boys. And if it didn't, Harry and Ron usually did the job themselves. ("You don't have any brothers, Hermione. Someone's got to look out for you!") Codswallop. She was never going to have a date with those two as her shadows.

While this hadn't really bothered her before, Hermione suddenly felt very alone in her bed. This was ridiculous, considering she had never _not_ been alone in her bed. But somewhere, in the back of her mind, she suddenly wanted a warm body beside her, wanted it like she had never wanted anything before. 

* * * * *

Chapter 1, available here in a few weeks, will fast forward us to seventh year. And in the mean time, keep an eye out for my first fic on Schnoogle.com, _A Hope Too Far_.

Credits: Here's to Billy Joel, whose song "And So It Goes" lends its title to this story (full lyrics will be provided as the story progresses). For all you curious parties, it is a gorgeous song and can be found on his "Storm Front" album, which is also the title for the prologue. Next, I'd like to thank Keyser Soze (AKA Lupinlover AKA Ashley) for inspiring me to write this story. Her story "Beyond the Silver Rainbow" (which can be found on www.fanfiction.net) is, I believe, one of the founding pieces of this ship and she has been quite encouraging of my endeavors.

Thank Yous: My fab betas are Nancy and Kris, who curtail my usage of the word _just_ and tell me when my scenes are downright confusing. Thanks goes out to my husband, Mike, who is extremely patient with my newfound fanfic obsession. Also thanks to Erik, one of my betas from _A Hope Too Far_ (did I mention that it's coming soon to Schnoogle.com?), who continues to help with this piece despite his personal dislike of the pairing. Finally, thanks must be sent to Ally, Tasneem, Erin, Jess, Elizabeth, Vicky, Danny, David, Peter, John and Professor Lau, all of whom are my endlessly supportive graduate school cohorts.

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Please be a responsible reader and review!!

This piece can also be found on the Yahoo! group Dark Sarcasm and is coming soon to Schnoogle. 

You can email your review to me directly at cynthiaweasley@yahoo.com.


	2. Chapter 1 Healing the Wounds

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Author's Notes and Disclaimers: Not mine. I'm just borrowing JKR's fun for awhile. This is a fanfic written for adult audiences and the characters will behave as such. Profanity, violence and adult situations will ensue (honestly- I'm getting there!). Adult swim. All kids out of the pool.

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For Nancy, my deemed sister for so many years.

  
Chapter 1 Healing the Wounds

"In every heart there is a room  
A sanctuary safe and strong  
To heal the wounds from lovers past  
Until a new one comes along"  
-"And So It Goes" by Billy Joel

The following autumn Ron Weasley broke his wrist during the first Quidditch practice of the season. Hermione did not usually attend practices; however, Harry had persuaded her to accompany them to this one. It was Harry's final season as the Gryffindor team captain and he was determined to instill as much luck as possible in his ragtag team. The incident in question escaped Hermione's immediate notice, though. Despite the early hour she had brought along her books and was battling to keep her homework from blowing across the nearly deserted pitch. As soon as Colin Creevey's misdirected bludger unseated Ron in the early morning mist the thump of his body hitting the pitch drew Hermione, who quickly left her books forgotten in the stands. 

The fact that it was Hermione's birthday on this same exact day had not escaped her notice. She fervently hoped that the others would overlook it. The growing number of attacks on families in outlying areas, and the ever present fear of an attack on their school, left Hermione in little mood to celebrate. A few quiet words from Ron, Harry and Ginny would be plenty. 

The morning was certainly off to an uncelebratory start as Hermione escorted Ron to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey fussed over the injury while Ron sat on a bed fidgeting beneath the mediwitch's wand. Even after her healing charms were finished, Madam Pomfrey insisted he stay a few more hours, concerned he would sneak out to the pitch again given the opportunity. Facing a morning in the infirmary with Ron, Hermione walked over to the window and whispered into the morning air, "_Accio Textbooks_." In a matter of moments her books landed lightly in her arms and she carried them over to Ron's bedside.

"'Mione, you're not honestly going to study are you? I thought you were here to entertain me," Ron said with the trademark Weasley grin touching every corner of his features.

"Entertainment? Am I suddenly a lounge singer?" Hermione responded with a wry little smile.

"As nice as that sounds, I was thinking more along the lines of wizard chess."

"I'm not sure you should be doing that right now, Ron. You're supposed to be resting, remember?"

"Come on, 'Mione. I'll use my other hand. It'll be fine."

Hermione screwed up her features in a blatant look of disapproval at the idea. The conversation never made it any further, however. At that moment the door to the long, sterile hall they were sitting in burst open as if caught by the draughts gusting around the castle. As Ron and Hermione looked up at the noise their breath caught at the sight that greeted them. Standing in the door, framed by the early morning glow flooding the halls, was Professor Snape looking drawn and worn. 

This dramatic entrance in and of itself would not have been out of place for the austere looking wizard. The bundle of robes stretched across his arms added a sinister element to the scene, though.

* * *

Head Boy Draco Malfoy did not know that Hermione's birthday was upon them. Seeing as she was the Head Girl, perhaps he should have taken some notice of this detail. The personal life of the relentlessly stuffy Gryffindor had never been of interest to him, though, nor did he imagine it ever would be. The night before Hermione's 18th birthday, Draco apparated (illegally, without a doubt) into a forest clearing in the north of Scotland. There he was greeted by a ring of wizards dressed in black and barely visible by the faltering firelight. The tests they inflicted undoubtedly shook the young wizard and yet, in the end, he did not break in the face of their trials. At the end of the night Lucius' son stood before the Dark Lord himself and took the Mark that had altered his father's life forever. The apparition back to the gates of Hogwarts school was the final burden on his weakened body, however. 

As daybreak lit the sky the young man collapsed in a heap underneath the gothic statues guarding the school. In the shadows of the grounds another wizard waited for him, knowing the chance that Draco would come back leaning on death's door. The wizard went out and, carefully picking up Draco's broken body, carried him up to the castle in the dawning light. A spell could have been used to levitate the patient up to safety. The older wizard knew, however, that time was too precious to be lost with such clumsy charms. 

The wizard draped against the morning chill carried the body of Draco Malfoy into Hogwarts with the laughter of Gryffindor Quidditch players echoing from the pitch.

* * *

Hermione gasped at the sight and bolted from her chair beside Ron's bed. The chess game quickly forgotten, she helped Snape settle the inanimate body upon the nearest bed while Ron looked on in disbelief. The sudden flurry of activity also drew Madam Pomfrey, who was staring at the limp form with uncertainty.

"What happened to him, Severus?" Madam Pomfrey whispered.

But as the adults just looked at each other in horror, Hermione was already pulling off his constricting robes and running her eyes and fingertips over Draco to discover his most obvious injuries. In retrospect she would be baffled by this instinct, although her natural curiosity in solving problems likely played a role.

"It is undoubtedly a combination of Dark curses, Poppy. I can make a guess at some, but I was dismissed a number of hours before they finished with Mr. Malfoy."

"He's cold and clammy, and his breathing isn't efficient. And his eyes aren't focusing… It looks almost like a hybrid of Cruciatus and the Draught of Living Death," came Hermione's voice, lost in concentration.

Snape and Pomfrey turned to Hermione with mildly puzzled looks. Had the scene not been so serious it would have perhaps been comical. But without missing a beat both Snape and Pomfrey moved closer, drawing Hermione into their group as they worked feverishly on Draco; Ron took the chance to sneak back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

During the night it became clear that a roadblock had been reached. In the hours approaching morning Poppy Pomfrey fell asleep on a medical book at her desk. Snape, having reached the limit of his usefulness, was in Dumbledore's office discussing the situation in strained tones. Hermione, however, was still awake. 

The youngest member of the impromptu team, and presumably the least in need of sleep, was still poring over books to find what possible combination of previously known Dark curses and potions could have produced such an effect. As the hours ticked by she grew only more determined. Draco's breathing was getting more and more labored. Without a breakthrough soon, he would die.

Sometime in those wee hours, when a young mind under pressure is strung out on adrenaline and too many cups of tea, the inspiration comes to her. Call it a lightening bolt, a light bulb, or simply an epiphany, Hermione rushed to the cupboards and began throwing ingredients onto a trolley. Within an hour her potion, an appropriate Slytherin green, was bubbling as she murmured incantations and prayers to whatever deity would listen over the unlikely brew. Part of her said she should wake up Madam Pomfrey to ask permission before she administered her creation. The other part, however, could see the look of despair on the woman's face, even now shrouded by sleep.

If this didn't work- she didn't really want to consider the option just yet- he would pass in his sleep. This was likely inevitable anyway were no other solutions quickly found, and perhaps he would be better off than any left behind to fight the war. At the very least they would have rid the world of another Death Eater. Madam Pomfrey had tried to ignore the barely visible lines of the Dark Mark on Draco's forearm. Hermione shivered to think that she may be saving him only to allow him to go out and kill others. Not one to assume the role of Creator lightly, the woman accepted that her own conscience demanded her best effort, Draco Malfoy and his selfish choices be damned.

Without thinking about it any more, Hermione walked silently over and administered her potion to the sleeping patient. As the minutes passed his breathing did not cease. Indeed, it seemed to improve. Slowly but surely Draco's skin regained its warmth and his breath seemed to approach a normal state. The thought that her crazy idea might actually have worked settled on her body and mind like a warm blanket. 

* * *

Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape entered the infirmary at 6 o'clock the next morning after an all-night discussion on the best way to handle the situation. Both men stopped in their tracks as they noticed a most unusual sight. 

The Head Girl seemed to have fallen asleep in the chair next to the Head Boy's bed. Barely civil in their waking states, they had relaxed in slumber so that their heads shared the same pillow, curly brown hair lying in contrast to brilliant blond. The most amazing part of the situation, though, was that Draco had returned to a fairly normal color. His breathing sounded regular and he appeared to be resting peacefully. 

Dumbledore approached the sleeping pair with a smile of mild bemusement. Snape walked directly past the bed to where a cold cauldron sat in the corner. Looking beyond the fact that the cauldron had not been cleaned properly, the professor peered in with wonder at the substance that had apparently cured the Head Boy's mysterious condition.

Hermione faded into consciousness as she became aware of hot breath on her face. Opening her eyes she discovered she was sleeping face to face with Draco Malfoy. With a start she tried to sit up and her body promptly rebelled. Her back and neck ached from having slept slumped over the bed. The patient sharing her pillow looked remarkably better, she thought to herself through her morning grogginess. Pale and weak, but closer to life than death. _Had her potion really worked, then?_

"Apparently so, Miss Granger."

Looking up she found the Headmaster watching her with a mix of pride and affection in his deep blue eyes.

"It would seem that you have cured Mr. Malfoy."

From behind her Hermione heard a cold and familiar voice, "So this is your handy-work, Miss Granger?"

Preferring to direct her answer to the Headmaster, Hermione turned to the wizened wizard with worried eyes and replied, "I was desperate, sir. He wasn't going to last much longer."

Dumbledore nodded slightly and walked over to join her at Draco's bedside. He leaned down and touched the young woman's hand, "I know, Miss Granger. I myself had concerns as to his prognosis. Thank you for bringing him back to us."

Hermione nodded slightly at the thanks as another snarl came from behind her, "And on what basis did you administer your concoction, Miss Granger? How did you know that it would not simply finish Mr. Malfoy off in his sleep?"

Hermione turned around and, rising from her chair, looked Snape in the eye from across the room. Armed with the Headmaster's approval, she felt emboldened. "Perhaps I should have left him then, Professor? I'm sure your Death Eater devices could have finished him off more than adequately without my assistance."

His obsidian eyes flashed. "I would watch your tongue, Miss Granger. Especially when speaking of things you know nothing about."

Dumbledore glided between the two that he preempted the impending staring contest. "That will be enough for this morning. Severus, may I suggest that once Poppy sees fit to release him, you take Mr. Malfoy to your rooms and debrief him? Miss Granger, you will follow me."

Professor Dumbledore walked from the room with Hermione a step behind him. Snape looked around and, seeing Poppy Pomfrey still sound asleep at her desk, swore under his breath. "Merlin, that woman would sleep through the fall of Voldemort."

* * *

Hermione settled in a chair across from the Headmaster. "I'm sorry about that outburst, sir," she said meekly. "It was out of line."

"It most certainly was, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied sternly. "But I think we can overlook shipping you to Azkaban this once," he added with a chuckle and slight smile. "It would seem that there is another matter to deal with at the moment, such as the fact that I appear to be sitting across from a naturally gifted mediwitch."

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked incredulously. "I think my success is more luck than anything else."

"Knowing you, I highly doubt that. Your instructors have been telling me for a number of years now that you have outgrown your use for them. Perhaps we have found a more suitable outlet for your talents."

"But, sir, I still have another year before I will qualify for an apprenticeship-"

"And if I left Mr. Potter locked in Gryffindor Tower because he was not a licensed Auror this war would not be proceeding nearly as well. Considering your experiences of the last few hours, I doubt I need to remind you of the fact that in wartime we all must rise above the ordinary, Miss Granger."

At this bit of reasoning Hermione nodded and bit her lip as if thinking very hard about the situation before her. "What can I do, sir? You know I will trust your judgement."

Dumbledore nodded in reply, "Good. In that case you may be excused from all of your classes save Transfiguration. You will need that one to pass your Apparition test, I believe. All the others can be completed using a more 'practical approach'. On Monday you may report to Madam Pomfrey. She will have some projects for you to begin working on." 

With this the kindly old wizard got up and walked around the desk. "You are worthy of the Gryffindor House, Miss Granger. I wish that I could tell you that you have already seen the worst you will see. The battle outside is getting worse, more so than even the _Daily Prophet_ reports or the Ministry knows. In the coming months you will see things I do not wish on anyone your age. You are, however, very strong. Know that myself, the other professors, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy will always be here to help you."

Hermione's eyebrows flew up at the mention of Draco.

"Indeed, Miss Granger. Young Mr. Malfoy is the newest spy among our ranks."

Dumbledore took a moment to study Hermione's reactions and then continued, "I must thank you again for saving his life. This information, however, must stay between us, Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape. This secret is far too dangerous to risk an accidental leak."

Again Hermione nodded and this time she stood as Professor Dumbledore led her towards the door. "Get some rest, Miss Granger. And may I suggest some hot chocolate from the kitchens? I always find it helps when my mind is troubled."

* * *

She lay on her bed still fully clothed, not knowing the last time she'd eaten. It seemed ages since she'd bathed. And yet she lay on her bed motionless, lost in the sea of fabric that made up her canopy. Her mind was lost. Perhaps her soul as well, but more importantly her mind. In the previous years she had worked on minor projects, added her ingredients to the cauldron brewing freedom. She felt so mature, so prepared and yet, in one moment she was very much a little girl. Her actions may have been swift, her mind may have lived up to its clever potential, but it was all a lie. A defense mechanism. She had seen Draco Malfoy standing on death's doorstep, waiting for the formal invitation to enter. No matter her long-term dislike for the young man, she would not have wanted him to go through such an ordeal. An ordeal for such an idealistic cause- her idealistic cause.

And Snape. She could still see him standing in that doorway, calm and collected as ever, determined to give his student a fighting chance. So stoic, so dark, so unreachable. _Merlin_. This had to stop. Her unreasonable attraction to the man had been ruling the darker depths of her mind for nearly a year. At first it was so simple. She wanted to touch him. An arm, a hand, a finger. Anything to just relieve the primal urge exerting itself with increasing determination. And then it went too long. The desire brewed and steeped and a simple touch would no longer be enough. She needed something more. 

From the depths of her body, a fevered pitch grew that taxed her self control. Every sarcastic word, every sneer, every rustled breeze from his cape. She, the perfect student, the model Head Girl, wanted him. She didn't know the first thing about men, about sex, about adult relationships. But she would have given anything to have pulled him into a closet or followed him into his quarters and, ultimately, fucked him senseless any way she could have had him. 

The foolish ramblings of her inner hormonal teenager. A dry and bitter laugh rose deep in her chest. Never had she done more than kiss a boy, and here she had spent months of her life fighting, and then giving herself over to, the idea of possessing a man more than twice her age in a way that would not only be carnal and socially despicable, but likely painful as well. 

Today this stopped. She had now, laid out before her, the work of a grown woman. The responsibilities demanded her entire being, body and soul. With a determination worthy of a Gryffindor, she exiled her wayward attractions to the furthest recesses of her being. Hermione Granger closed her eyes and allowed a restless sleep to claim her.

* * * * *

Chapter 2 will soon be available here and on Dark Sarcasm and Schnoogle. Please note that there are two versions of chapter 2. The one on Schnoogle is an edited version, with an "R" rating, while the original, with a "NC-17" rating, can be found on Dark Sarcasm. As no significant plot elements have been omitted from the edited version, I would encourage you to read the version with which you feel more comfortable.

Credits: Here's to Billy Joel, whose song "And So It Goes" lends its title to this story (full lyrics will be provided as the story progresses). For all you curious parties, it is a gorgeous song and can be found on his _Storm Front_ album. 

Where to begin?? My betas are the most amazing people ever! HUGE thanks goes out to beta dream team composed of Nancy, Chelle, MonteLukast, Deborah, Shii and Christine!! Special thanks also goes to my husband, Mike, and all of my ever-supportive friends- Tasneem, Ally, Jessica, Katie, Erin, Malaika, Elizabeth, Jeff, the other Erin, Peggy, Amy, Christy, Brianne, Charissa, Cordelia, Sindy and Kris. Also, thanks to the fabulous Jeannie AKA cosmoballerina and Christina Hilt for their kind words and encouragement!

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Please be a responsible reader and review!!

Comments and reviews can be sent to me directly at cynthiaweasley@yahoo.com.


	3. Chapter 2 Cautious Tones

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Author's additional warning for this chapter: This chapter is very dark and deals with a number of mature topics. _Please_ do not read this if you are under the age of 17 or consider yourself a sensitive reader. An edited version will be available, with the plot intact, at The Dark Arts in a week or two. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

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Chapter 2 Cautious Tones

"I spoke to you in cautious tones  
You answered me with no pretense  
And still I feel I said too much  
My silence is my self defense" 

_-"And So It Goes" by Billy Joel_

"Miss Granger," the irritated grumble emanated from the infirmary door.

"Mmmm?" Hermione replied, not looking up from the cauldron in front of her.

"Miss Granger! My title is Professor and I would appreciate you looking at me when I address you," the cutting voice echoed through the hall, causing some first years recovering from flying lesson injuries to cower in their beds.

Hermione looked up and saw the vision of black stalking across the large hall. "Professor, excuse me, I was just double checking my steps on this potion." The Head Girl didn't smile and yet failed to look overly upset by Snape's foul attitude. She hadn't been in his class for a month, so some of his intimidation was lost on her.

"I went to teach my third year Hufflepuffs today only to discover that my entire supply of salamander skin was missing," he remarked flatly, ignoring the young woman's explanation. By now he was towering over her from across the table. The smoke rising from the cauldron lent an eerie quality to his features, and Hermione thought he looked rather like the Bloody Baron in this light.

Stifling a smile Hermione replied, "Of course. You weren't in your classroom last night when I came to borrow it. I didn't think you'd mind."

Snape's frown deepened, "And it did not occur to you to attempt to locate me before pilfering my storeroom?"

"Seeing as salamander skin is neither rare nor costly, I didn't think it would be a problem."

"And you conveniently forgot that I actually do something around here other than cater to the whims of young girls with overly high opinions of their capabilities?" The words were spoken with increasing iciness.

"Professor," Hermione said in a low voice to drop their conversation below the hearing of the other patients, "I left a note on your desk explaining that if you needed it returned, you should Floo me and I would bring it down immediately."

"How convenient, Miss Granger, as the purported note never made it to my attention."

"Did you look at your desk this morning, Professor?" Hermione shot back, losing patience as the cauldron continued to bubble.

Snape paused and then said, "That is entirely beside the point."

"Beside the point? I think not. You didn't even try to look for an explanation." 

Hermione paused then, clamping her mouth shut, eyes wide, as she realized what she had just said, and to whom. Amending her tone and trying not to look overly apologetic she said, "You'll find what you're looking for in the storage closet behind Madam Pomfrey's desk, Professor. I'm sorry for any inconvenience."

"And how, Miss Granger, am I to know where to find it? I am hardly a mind reader."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked the professor in the eye one and stated flatly, "You'll find the closet modeled after what I've seen of your own stores. I thought it would be the most efficient solution considering we will likely need to trade items back and forth."

Snape hesitated briefly and then strode off into the closet in question. Within moments he was back and, pausing, he looked across the table, catching Hermione's eye. 

"Miss Granger," the voice was soft with rough edges, "in the future I would appreciate you consulting with me concerning the use of my ingredients." She met his gaze unwaveringly as he leaned in a little closer. "I will see you tomorrow night around ten. I would appreciate it if you had a batch of your newest remedy awaiting my arrival. In all likelihood there will not be enough time to brew one once I return from the evening's events." Hermione nodded ever so slightly. 

The black form flowed back out of the hall carrying his jar of ingredient. The first years breathed a sigh of relief as he exited, but Hermione was too busy trying to maintain her composure to notice.

* * *

Hermione stepped into the ward and closed the door behind her. Feeling the weight pull closed, she exhaled. Behind the door laid a sleeping Severus Snape. His room - small, spartan and sterile - afforded him a bare minimum of privacy. Not that the hospital wing was buzzing with activity. Madam Pomfrey was visiting her ailing sister in Southampton and although the castle teemed with bodies, mischief was at an all time low. An adolescent mope pervaded the despite the fact that it was Halloween. Each pupil knew that Hogwarts was safe and yet their hearts remained hostage to thoughts of those at home. 

The heavy silence crept in on her as she sat behind the large oaken desk near the door. Tempted to give in to her own fatigue, Hermione instead reached for her laboratory notebook. Snape's treatment was going well. So well that she was tempted to give into his petulant requests to return to his quarters, in capitulation for her own desire for rest and quiet. The scientist in her refused to allow it, however. The final few hours of observation could be critical to determining how quickly the potion worked.

Her neat handwriting stretched across the parchment. A wayward part of her brain thought she should charm the quill orange for the holiday, or perhaps scent the parchment with pumpkin and spice. "Happy Halloween, Hermione," she murmured to herself. Nothing was stirring in her corner of the world, and she lacked the energy to change it. The curly brown head bobbed ever so slightly, as if in tune to a tune only it could hear, and Hermione began to slip into a restless slumber.

The crack of the awakening fireplace jerked her head up and, through her haze, she saw Professor Dumbledore's face looking overly calm. Hermione knew that look, knew it like the sickening smell of rotting garbage that greeted you on a warm summer's day. 

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Professor."

"I am sorry to disturb you but there is troubling news. There have been attacks, many attacks, with a great degree of coordination."

Still swimming slightly in her sleep-induced fog Hermione nodded.

"St. Mungo's is full," the Headmaster asserted quickly. She was instantly awake. _Full? How is it they weren't warned of an attack on this scale? _He continued in haste, "I have offered to accept the overflows. We are trying to reach Madam Pomfrey and others to assist, but for now we already have victims coming in. Professor McGonagall and I will meet them at the gate where they will be escorted to you. Do you understand?"

She nodded, this time shaking imperceptibly. 

"I am sorry I cannot tell you more but that is all I know. You may expect arrivals any minute," his blue eyes appeared, sad and drawn in the firelight.

She launched herself out of her chair and began to frantically pull emergency supplies onto carts that could be moved quickly from bed to bed. It wouldn't do to have things being summoned from across the room if the place were full of patients. Her clanking must have woken the sole patient from his room. Snape's dark eyes took in her actions with a deathly stillness, "What is wrong?"

"Attacks. St. Mungo's is full. We're taking the overflow," she clipped out as she continued to scuttle. Without asking he ran from the room. Hermione never looked back until he darkened her doorway on his way to the nearest bed. In his arms, dear Merlin, in his arms was the tiniest child. The most lovely dark hair settled on his skin which rapidly shifted from white to near-translucent blue. She rushed to his bedside as a woman, who could only be his mother, staggered in the door carrying another boy, this one still younger.

Panic clung to the young woman as she laid the other child on the next bed. Hermione's mind registered the woman's battered state but turned to the boys who shared not only their appearance but symptoms as well. "I don't know what they did," the mother gasped, "I don't know what the fucking bastards did! They dragged me away. It could have been anything…"

The symptoms nagged at Hermione's mind. So similar to Draco's all those month ago and yet not quite. The constantly evolving art of Dark Maladies plagued her, defying easy answers. Snape worked at warming the children while Hermione began to brew the base solution she'd developed. After settling the mother in a chair between the beds, Snape slid up next to Hermione and whispered into her ear, "They're already dead." Her body sagged under the weight of this horrible knowledge. Slipping an arm around the young mediwitch's shoulder, presumably to keep her from pitching headlong into the cauldron, he continued, "Should I tell her?" 

Her body unconsciously rocked forward and back as if weighing the options. After a moment Hermione shook her head, "I'll speak with her. Then I'll need some time to care for her injuries. Where are the rest?"

The closeness of his body allowed Hermione to feel his head shaking. "There probably won't be any more. Not if they're all like this. It looks like our comrades have added a catalyst to speed the reaction."

"Why was she spared?" Hermione murmured.

"That is a question for a later time," he replied quietly. He hovered close by for a moment before Hermione turned her head towards him.

"You should go lay down again. I'll check in on you once she's taken care of." The surrealness of the situation kept her mind from registering his unprotested retreat. Turning to face her patient from across the room, Hermione took in the young woman's features. So familiar. She couldn't be much older than Hermione herself. The name was on the tip of her tongue. What was it, again? Patricia? Petunia- no, Penelope. That was it. She had been Percy's girlfriend back at Hogwarts before she ran off with that Slytherin beater right after graduation. Ron talked constantly about it just to irritate his brother. That beater had gone on to be quite the celebrity. But now that was irrelevant. Through the tears and frightened pain that lined her face, Penelope looked exactly like that 5th year Ravenclaw prefect Hermione had first told about the basilisk. She remembered the nervous tugging at her hair from the tense moments they spent creeping about Hogwarts, mirror in hand.

To think of her this way was easier. Hermione could relate to the bookish prefect this woman had been, if not to the wife and mother she had become. Walking over slowly she sat on the edge of one of the boy's beds. Taking Penelope's hands in hers she looked into the blood shot eyes and said the only words in her vocabulary at that awful moment: "I'm sorry." The figure before her did not scream. Nor was there wailing, sobbing, pulling of hair or a violent outburst. Rather Penelope returned her gaze with a tearful nod.

Holding the pose for a moment, more out of uncertainty than anything else, Hermione raised Penelope to her feet and led her to a bed at the far end of the room. Drawing curtains around the boys, and then their mother, Hermione went to Penelope and started to gingerly undress her. The robes, perhaps once a deep blue, were shredded into mere strips clinging to her body with dried blood like a paper maché piece of modern art. The voice of her patient rose softly as Hermione continued her work. "They came to initiate him. They told him if he wouldn't join they would kill us all… They broke their promise, Hermione. They left me behind." There was no response for such desolation, nor did Penelope seem to expect one.

The physical wounds appeared far less serious than those of her children. Basic bruises and cuts on her upper body, at least. Cleaning and healing as she went, Hermione hesitated as she came to the woman's waist. Quite frankly, she didn't want to see what lay beneath. The stories told by survivors of Death Eater attacks were beyond horrific, and frankly, she suddenly felt far too young for this job. Maintaining her exterior composure, however, had always been one of Hermione's strong suits. Covering Penelope's torso with clean, spell-warmed hospital robes, she laid her back on the bed and began uncovering her lower body. The amount of blood was astounding. Hastily self-mended wounds waited an expert touch, and Hermione was determined to make this as humane as possible. Merlin knew that Penelope's rape had been anything but.

The swelling and lacerations baffled her for a moment. This no longer looked like any anatomy she was familiar with, much less one she shared. Hermione's professional demeanor began to falter. She trembled at the thought of what internal damage there could be. Empathy was too overwhelming to reach for, and so Hermione struggled for compassion. Praying to whatever deity would listen, she worked slowly and methodically. Mending the physical wounds came easier than she had expected and Hermione was thankful someone else would take responsibility for the intangible ones.

"I'm done, Penelope. Would you like a sleeping draught?"

The woman, now completely bundled in sterile white hospital robes, shook her head. "Hermione, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course." Hermione wondered what she could have to offer her on this night of all nights.

"May I take a bath? I need to soak, to scrub myself clean…" Silently Hermione took Penelope to a small bathroom next to Snape's room. He didn't seem to be using it, so she showed the woman inside and settled her in. 

"Let me know if you need anything. I'll be out here when you're finished," Hermione said gently closing the door. She didn't dare let herself sit down for fear that she may not get up again. The curtains hanging about the boys' beds now beckoned her. Gathering up an armful of sheets from a cupboard, Hermione walked over and set the linens down on the chair the boys' mother had so recently occupied. The curtains were left open as if to allow the gathered tension in the room to envelope the coming act.

As Hermione levitated the first child a half meter above the bed she started to hear a low humming coming from the bathroom. Minor and contemplative it broke through some of the reigning tension. Hermione stripped the young boy of what she guessed must be the wizarding equivalent of pajamas. So lovely, his skin looked like porcelain in firelight. Its flawlessness mocked her, the near perfect body that simply lacked breath. The crisp white linen went so well with his miniscule toes. She wrapped upward with steady, competent hands. The humming from the bathroom grew louder as Hermione covered the body, and as she finished pulling the shroud over the miniature features she heard the words escape their tile prison.

__

"When I walk through the shades of death, Thy presence is my stay;  
One word of Thy supporting grace drives all my fears away.  
Thy hand in sight of all my foes doth still my table spread;  
My cup with blessings overflows; His oil anoints my head."

Any memory Hermione had of that song as a child sitting in her parent's church was supplanted by the scene before her. Apparently Penelope was Muggle-born as well. The lines gained strength as they rose and fell so gently. Acting on long-buried instinct Hermione added her voice to the tune in a soulful harmony. From his vantage point in the doorway of his room Severus wondered at the steadiness in both women's voices. The mysteries of grief in a young mind and heart. He pushed back memories of his own experiences and watched Hermione gracefully move among the beds. 

Approaching the second bed she levitated the young boy and left him hovering. Starting at his feet Hermione took the clean bed sheets and cradled the boy's fragile body in them. Around and around the young woman wrapped the cloth. Her languid pace lent itself to exacting details, every corner snug, every swath near artful. The boy's tiny neck began to be swallowed up in the cocoon when she paused. Leaning down, the ever poised Hermione Granger faltered visibly. She laid a kiss on the child's forehead, pausing for a last look at the blue skin and purple lips. 

__

"The sure provisions of my God attend me all my days;  
Oh, may Thy house be my abode and all my work be praise.  
There would I find a settled rest, while others go and come;  
No more a stranger, nor a guest, but like a child at home."

When she finally turned away, the task completed, Severus saw the stoic look frozen onto her features. The tears silently spilled from her eyes formed rivulets that shone on her cheeks in the torchlight. Far too young, he thought, to look so aged and exhausted. Just a child herself, really.

His reverie broke. Shattered more accurately, and his mind could not grasp, at first, what his instincts sensed. The singing. The voice emanating from the bathroom had waned and faltered, and now the only sound came from Hermione, who had unconsciously picked up the melody. Severus walked over and knocked on the bathroom door. At the lack of response, he called Penelope's name. Silence. The handle was locked. The door was warded.

"Shit."

Hermione whirled around, startled to see one of her patients, whom she had supposed asleep blasting the other's door down. "What are you doing?" she demanded as she stalked across the room.

"The door's been warded."

"I think she deserves some privacy right now."

"She's not responding."

"What?" But at that moment Severus managed to drop the wards and charged into the bathroom. Severus Snape stood a good six inches taller than Hermione Granger and, despite his slim form, managed to block the view through the doorway quite sufficiently. She saw him tense, though. She saw him rush into the bathroom and part of her wanted to turn away. Too much, her mind kept saying, but she had to follow. 

The impressions from that doorway burrowed deep into Hermione's mind, where they would remain for the rest of her days. Torn between retching and fainting, she stood mesmerized by her own senses shutting down.

It came back to her in that moment, the fact that years ago Penelope was acclaimed as one of the greatest artists Hogwarts had seen in many years. Her final project was in charms where she enchanted paint brushes to create a mural for the Ravenclaw common room. That mural was nothing compared to the detailed work before their eyes now. Penelope's skin was transformed into a canvas writhing with angry vipers.

With cleverness worthy of Ravenclaw, she apparently transfigured her bar of soap into a sharp dagger. Starting at a point at which one could only guess, Penelope carved a pattern into her skin with unswerving care. The Dark Mark throbbed as blood poured from the skeleton's mouth and the snake's eyes. Twenty, thirty or more engravings were present, varying artistically in size and depth. The only visible areas left untouched by the evil crest was the pearly skin of her forearms and her face. Smooth lines connected her veins and arteries in magnificent accord, stretching from her wrists to her dainty elbows. 

With uncanny synergy, the two conscious members of the threesome managed the third onto a bed. The déjà vu was nearly overpowering as Hermione worked to stop the bleeding. This time Snape moved beside her, though, as they worked for the one life that night that was theirs to save. With the shallowly breathing patient finally wrapped in clean robes again, they dosed her with a dreamless sleep potion. Carefully warding the bed to alert her if the patient should awaken, Hermione turned to the bathroom with a sigh. 

"Don't."

"Pardon me?"

"That's what Filch is for. You need rest."

"You're one to talk. You're the patient here, if I recall," she said halfheartedly.

Severus shook his head and guided Hermione to the bed next to Penelope's. Expecting a protest of some sort, he was surprised she fell asleep so quickly that he felt compelled to pull the blankets up over her. Severus smiled cautiously to himself as he brushed a stray curl from her sleep-shadowed face. It has been many years since he had received a gift of note, and yet somehow, in this darkness they called a war, Severus Snape witnessed an astonishing vision: Hermione Granger, steel wrapped in velvet.

* * *

Christmas came with little fanfare to the castle. The halls were filled with listless students and even the charmed suits of armor lacked a certain enthusiasm in their caroling. Harry and Ron remarked that it felt odd not to have the place to themselves- and disappointing as well. With security at its highest point yet after the Halloween attacks, no shenaniganism was going to slip by the watchful eyes of the staff and prefects. 

Hermione did not mind nearly so much as the boys. Still troubled by the events of All Hallows Eve, she was selfishly satisfied at the lack of cheer. In her heart she was not yet ready to celebrate anything, and the sights and sounds of others doing so would have irritated her to no end. She still chided herself, however, for her Scrooge-like attitude. 

On Christmas Eve Hermione sat surrounded by books in the infirmary. The day had run its course like any other, despite the pleadings of various friends to take the day off. Chess and exploding snap tournaments were being played in the Gryffindor common room, but she merely tolerated such games under the best of circumstances. After promising she would at least attend the feast, Harry, Ron and Ginny had left Hermione to her books for the afternoon. As she sat puzzling over a particular equation, however, another interruption strode through the door.

"Happy Christmas, Granger."

"Bah humbug," she replied looking up.

"Now really, Granger, not even a small smile, just for me? I've brought mistletoe!"

Hermione screwed her face into a scowl at the sight of Draco Malfoy approaching her with the green leaves and white berries. "Don't even think about it or you're going to get a lot more than a 'bah humbug,' Draco," she said, though she felt a smile beginning to appear. 

"No Christmas kisses for me?" he asked, pasting on his most innocent look.

"I hardly think so, Mr. Malfoy."

"And then how about for someone else?"

"Who did you have in mind?" Hermione asked.

"Let's see…how about Nearly Headless Nick?"

"I wasn't aware one could kiss a ghost," she remarked as her smile widened.

"Perhaps not, then. How about Flitwick? He's solid enough."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at this. "I'm coming to the feast if that's what you're here about. I've already promised not to work the entire holiday."

"May I escort you then, Granger?" With this Draco extended his hand to her, the other one conveniently holding the troublesome plant over his head.

"Not like that you won't," Hermione chuckled. "I thought we'd already been through that."

"Well then shall we get on with it or do I have to drag you? Dumbledore personally sent me to come and get you so that you would not spend the whole day locked in your funk." 

"I'll join you in a minute," said Hermione, shuffling the papers on her desk into orderly piles.

"Oh no you don't. I know that line, young lady. It is my _mission_ to come and get you-"

"And it is _my_ mission to bring Professor Snape his latest dose to help with the aftereffects of that curse. I'll join you in the Great Hall. Now get!" Hermione leaned over the desk and attempted to swat Draco as he jumped just out of her range.

"Okay then, Miss Granger. But if you're not down there by the time the main course is served I'm coming up here again and using the full body bind," Draco's said in his sternest voice. 

Hermione noded and returned to her papers. As Draco walked out the door she muttered under her breath a slightly more cheerful, "bah humbug," to which Draco shot back from the hall, "I heard that, Miss Granger!"

* * *

The door to Snape's office looked the same every day of the year. _Formidable_ and _uninviting_ was apparently always in fashion in the dungeons. Hermione was beginning to empathize with this attitude more and more, much to her chagrin. How was it that she was turning into some grinch with a heart two sizes too small? Then again, how was it that she had buried six patients in the last two months? Her body trembled involuntarily at the thought as a chill ran through her. She was not ready to battle the dark and yet the world left her no other choice.

Her seventh year. The biggest concern on her mind was supposed to be the N.E.W.T.s and securing a good internship after graduation. Granted, the second item was neatly resolved in consideration of her current role, but she still wasn't ready for _this_. Bloody unfair, all of it. She was supposed to be energetic and undaunted- ready to take on the world at any cost. But here she stood, hesitating in a dungeon hallway cowed into pessimism before youthful optimism ever had a chance. 

Again she trembled, but this time in rage. And then, for the first time in her life, Hermione lost all control and screamed. Not a pained howl or a distraught whimper, but an explosion of sound that shook her to her core. It felt good. Until the door before her opened, that is.

"Problems, Miss Granger?" Rather than upset, Professor Snape looked mildly amused.

"Excuse me, sir," Hermione said hurriedly and with no little embarrassment. "I brought you your next dose."

He stood regarding her momentarily and did not immediately take the goblet from her outstretched hand. "Certainly, but first I'd rather discuss your mental well-being. Taking a potion brewed by a distraught hand is generally unwise." Now his half-amused gaze turned into a piercing stare, and she swore he could see through her.

"I'll be fine, sir. I assure you the potion is correct."

"That's not what I said, Miss Granger. How is your mental health?"

"As good as can be expected, I would imagine, given the circumstances."

He gave her an appraising look and then replied, "I understand." Snape reached for the goblet in her hand without breaking the eye contact. As his hand closed around the bowl Snape's fingers brushed Hermione's. She hesitated to relinquish the piece. It had been so long since she'd felt human contact. Somehow it had escaped her that she hadn't received so much as a pat on the shoulder in weeks and her body responded to the fleeting contact. 

* * *

Wresting the goblet from her grip ever so gently, Severus Snape downs the potion. When he resurfaces, Hermione Granger still stands before him, but with a more resolute look on her face.

"Please."

He looks into her eyes and finds himself sucked back in time. Ten years ago, no twenty. The same imploring brown eyes, nearly the same dungeon even. The smell differs, here the wafting scent of cinnamon catches his nose where his memory indicates that it should be sandalwood. But gods she looks so much like the other that he could almost convince himself he was seventeen again. And before him stands yet another tortured young soul, pleading for one moment of abandon. 

Again, Voldemort had driven a wondrous young mind, with a beautiful body as its vessel, into his arms in search for an absence of pain. Not pleasure. Not so brazen as to believe this, Severus knows not even simple attraction lies behind either request. Each, in her own way, grasps desperately at him to escape horror and be human- needing to be touched and held in a world intent on inflicting only harm. He is faltering. His mind and body collaborate in the worst kind of conspiracy. This same look won him over before and, despite interceding years and experience, it is about to again.

"You must understand…" he whispers, his voice holding the closest thing to a waver Hermione has ever heard.

She raises a hand to his lips and replies, "I know. No strings attached. Please…"

He brings his hand to cover hers and gently pulls it down but does not relinquish it. "Indeed, Miss Granger." Drawing her inside, Severus reaches into his sleeve with his free hand and pulls out his wand. Pointing it at each of the four corners of the room in turn, he whispers a warding incantation. The doors lock and the fire dies to prevent an interruption by Floo. The remaining candle and torchlight plays upon her features and he trembles. Now more than ever she looks like a ghost from his past. Is this fair? It seems almost fatalistic to do this knowing how it ended last time. And yet…she needs this as much as he does. 

He leads her to the rug in the middle of the floor and, sitting down, pulls her softly into his lap. Running his hands over her shoulders he continues to whisper, providing cushioning charms on the carpet and warming charms for the air which is rapidly cooling in the absence of the fire. Kissing her neck, he murmurs a contraceptive charm and runs his fingers through her long flowing hair. She turns to kiss him and slides off his lap, drawing him down to her. His heart quickens as he obeys her wordless commands, covering her fragile body with the warmth of his own. 

The two cradle each other. Disrobing and clinging, rocking and clutching, both whisper and embrace until they sag under the weight of their sated bodies. Conjuring a blanket, Severus wraps them tightly and holds her in his arms, if only briefly. As Hermione drifts off, Severus listens to her breathing and memorizes the sensations in his body and mind. If history is any measure, this needs to last him another twenty years.

* * * * *

Chapter 3, will be available in a few weeks on both The Dark Arts and Dark Sarcasm. Sorry for the delay, but alas other fics and reality require attention, too. 

Credits: As always, first credit to Billy Joel for his song "And So It Goes." Beautiful piece. Available on his _Storm Front_ album. Next credit belongs to Isaac Watts for writing the lyrics of "My Shepherd Will Supply My Need." Based on Psalm 23, this piece is often used for funerals and commonly sung to a folk tune called "Resignation." For an audio clip of the tune please click on the above link and scroll to the bottom of the page. Scrooge, of course, belongs to Charles Dickens while the Grinch is the sole property of Dr. Seuss. (Interesting fact of the day: I was named for "Little Cindy Lou Who, who was no more than two.")

Special thanks to lisadupire who found the origin of the line "steel wrapped in velvet." The French have a proverb that says an "iron hand in a velvet glove," which has variations that include "steel in velvet." Voila!

The first thank yous go to my fabulous betas- Nancy, Deborah, MonteLukast, Chelle, Shii and Christine! Thank you for your patience with this work in progress and all your wonderful words of encouragement! Next I need to my husband, Mike, who has also been beta-reading this with an eye towards my style. Thanks, sweetie! And then, thanks must go out to all of my friends who have been supportive and helpful throughout this process- Tasneem, Jessica, Katie, Ally, Malaika, Erin, Peggy, Jeff, Erin, Christy, Sindy, Amy, Charissa, Brianne, Kris, Erik, Matt and Jonathan. 

Finally, thank you to everyone who took the time to review my last chapter! I really appreciate all of you who took the time to let me know what you thought.

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Please be a responsible reader and review!!

You can also review this piece on The Dark Arts.

Comments, questions and constructively snarky remarks may also be directed to cynthiaweasley@yahoo.com.


	4. Chapter 3 The Thorns

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Author's notes: Well, if you're just joining in now, go back and start at the beginning, for heaven's sake! Characters and setting not mine, just plot. JKR owns most of this. Adult fanfic, dark and so on and so forth. Thank you to all who've patiently awaited for this chapter as I finished my finals and holiday obligations. With any luck, chapter 4 will be much sooner in coming!

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Chapter 3 _The Thorns_

"And every time I've held a rose  
It seems I only felt the thorns  
And so it goes, and so it goes  
And so will you soon I suppose"  
-"And So It Goes" by Billy Joel

Hermione's dream state ruptured violently. Her eyes flew open and she found herself wound in sweat-drenched bed sheets. Hastily disentangling herself, she bolted to the bathroom. Thank goodness she had her own bathroom. No one could see her like this. She dug through her cabinet frantically and then realized she didn't know what she was looking for. Shaking, Hermione sank to her knees as thoughts barreled through her mind. _I'm having a miscarriage. I'm losing a baby I didn't even know I had… How could I not have noticed? _Anxious to see how much blood she was losing, Hermione reached between her legs, and gasped. 

Holding her hand up, she saw nothing but her pale skin. _No blood. A dream…_ Hermione began to shake more severely. _A dreadfully real dream…_

She allowed herself to lean back and rest against the full size tub behind her. Hermione hadn't had a dream that vivid since she was a little girl. A feeling of dread began to settle deep in her gut. She pushed the feeling down, filing it under 'to deal with later' in her emotional queue. Her work demanded too much time, too much attention for her to bother with this now.

As quickly as she could, Hermione bathed, dressed and hurried to the hospital wing. It might be early for a Saturday, but she could at least get some work done.

* * *

"That potion of yours doesn't seem to be keeping up with the death eaters' ingenuity, Granger." Draco smirked a little as Hermione examined him and earned a slight jab for his efforts.

"At least you're still with us, Malfoy. Hold still."

"Bloody difficult with you poking me."

"Bloody difficult not to, what with you being a git and all." Both parties cracked a small smile at that.

"That's quite the rash you're developing, Granger. Do hope it's not contagious."

"I don't think it is. Probably a reaction to one of the new ingredients I'm working with. Pretty toxic stuff." 

"Perhaps a new pair of dragonhide gloves for Valentine's day?"

"That's quite alright. I think I'll manage without a Valentine this year, thank you. Now lay back and get some rest." Finishing her examination she left Draco and went to the bed next to his, closing the dividing curtain behind her. Snape was sitting there looking his impatient self.

"Mr. Malfoy is right, Miss Granger."

"I need a pair of new gloves?"

"Don't be foolish." Snape stopped there, however, and his tone took on a slightly less threatening tone. "Your rash appears to be getting worse. You should be more careful with your ingredients."

"Thank you for your concern, Professor, but I'll be fine." She paused a moment to scrutinize him. "What did they do? Was it a curse?"

Snape frowned a little at this. "Yes, Miss Granger. The cause of our malady continues to be a curse, as it has been for a number of months now." 

The tone lacked bite but Hermione still felt unsettled. Running her wand over Snape in a diagnostic spell, she sighed at her lack of results. "Very well then. I'd like you to stay here for a few more hours so that I can observe you." Snape frowned but did not object.

"And yes, that means you, too, Malfoy," Hermione called over the curtain.

A 'harumph' answered from the other side of the curtain. As Hermione went to leave Snape, she heard the disembodied voice say, "_Accio_ pumpkin juice." There was instantly a loud crash accompanied by a string of profanity. Turning to open the divider between the beds, Hermione found Draco staring at a pool of pumpkin juice on the floor next to his bed.

"What's all that about? Need some remedial help, Malfoy?"

"Oh shut it, Granger. It just missed and hit the bed. I'll clean it up." With that Malfoy turned his wand on the sticky puddle. As he tried his cleaning spell, however, the mess only made it half way to the waste bin before falling again to the floor. "Damn it!" Malfoy made to get out of bed and go after it but Hermione stopped him. 

She puzzled for a moment and then said, "Malfoy, summon something else."

"So you can bloody well laugh at me? No thank you."

"Malfoy, just do it. I want to see what happens."

With a small frown Malfoy muttered, "_Accio_ potions book." The potions book sitting on a nearby chair obediently flew off the chair and proceeded to fall short of Malfoy by a good two meters.

Turning to Snape, Hermione said, "Professor, would you care to try it?"

With a resigned sigh Snape intoned, "_Accio _skelegrow."

Rather than shoot up off the shelf and over to Snape, the bottle tried to come directly and sent an entire shelf of other bottles crashing to the floor before, again, falling short of its summoner. Looking irked, Snape turned and attempted to summon a chair from across the room. The furniture tipped over and slid part way before giving up.

"Sit back, both of you," Hermione commanded. 

"Granger, this happens every time. We're just tired," Malfoy protested, but still followed her command.

Hermione turned to Snape and cast a spell to show the status of his magical field. A faint blue glow popped into place around Snape and Hermione frowned. She moved closer to him. Static shot through the field with a slight crackle and Hermione stepped back. Turning, she cast the same charm on Draco. His magical field, too, was weak. Odd. Very odd. Their fields should have shown bright unless they were actively involved in casting a spell. They were no longer attempting to summon anything and, even so, a simple summoning spell wouldn't have this effect.

"You said they cursed you?"

"Yes." Snape answered her tersely. "We've been over this."

"Was there anything unusual about the curse?"

"Not that I noticed."

She mentally pushed aside his impatience and concentrated for a moment. If it wasn't the spell itself…. "What did their wands look like?"

"Miss Granger, it was dark and I hardly see where you're going with this. If you are, in fact, not going anywhere, perhaps I may suggest that Mr. Malfoy's and my confinement would be best spent resting?"

Not sure herself where she was going with this, Hermione conceded to Snape and left her patients in peace. As she sat at her desk, however, her train of thought refused to be derailed. _It's as if they're actively using their magical powers. What if they are? But how? And why? _Malfoy was right. She wasn't keeping up with the death eaters' new developments, but maybe she just found a clue to what she was missing. Finally run to the point where her mind was chugging along in circles, Hermione set to finishing her clinical notes and patient charts. Snape and Malfoy would be free to go in a few hours and, when they did, she wanted to be sure she was free to go, too.

* * *

Hermione stepped into her room and her eyes were instantly drawn to the turret window. Sitting in her reading chair, bathed in the colors of the sunset, was an easily recognizable form: Draco Malfoy. What was he doing here? Did her door have a sign on it that said, 'Come On In'? And who told him the password to the passageways? (Well, Hermione had a guess on that last one, but she wasn't going to consider it now.) She strode over to him and simply greeted him with a curt, "Malfoy."

"Granger," he replied with a slight nod.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"We need to have a little chat," he replied, raising his wand to banish the door shut. The door complied with minimal resistance.

"Okay. What would you like to chat about?" Hermione said somewhat impatiently.

"You should sit down."

"Why? Feeling long-winded?"

"No. I just think that it's a good idea for a witch in your condition to sit whenever possible."

Hermione stared at him blankly, "A witch in my condition? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Granger, I think you know perfectly well. Now please, have a seat," he insisted, gesturing to the ottoman.

Hermione crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. "I most certainly don't know what you're talking about and I'll stand, thank you."

"Come now, Hermione. You can't play that little game with me. I wasn't born yesterday, and unlike Potter and Weasley, know certain things when I see them," Draco said with his irksome smile.

"Draco, this is becoming tiresome. Just come out and say it or leave."

He paused to study her face, still formed into a look of frustration. "Don't tell me you don't know yourself?"

"That's it. You can leave, Malfoy. You may be head boy, but that doesn't give you license to waste my time with this utter nonsense."

"You really don't know, do you? Granger, you're pregnant!"

Hermione's face slowly flowed into an expression of rage mixed with shock. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing!"

"Listen to me. Have you noticed any unusual allergies lately? Rashes, sneezing?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Muggleborns- honestly! Don't you know anything?"

"You can't possibly be talking about prenatal allergies. Those are really rare. I'm having a reaction to some ingredient I've been working with."

"Exactly- Severus. Prenatal reactions may be rare in the general wizarding population, Granger, but they're fairly common among pureblood families. It's a reaction between your and his magical powers. Both of which, I dare say, are fairly powerful. When was the last time you had your cycle?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Bloody hell, it's not. Whatever you've gotten yourself into, I'm going to get dragged in, too, considering our positions. So tell me, Hermione, when was it?"

Hermione paused. "It's never been regular. You're being an absolute git, Malfoy."

"Don't think I didn't notice your absence from the Christmas feast, Granger. I checked Potter's magic map, which Severus has been kind enough to loan me. It would seem the two of you were 'tied-up' in his office for quite some time. Tell me, were you tied up just figuratively or literally, as well?" 

"I think it's time for you to leave," she said in her most steely voice.

"This is bigger than you, Granger. I was hoping that you would see that. You're going to need a mediwitch, or a potions master," Draco said standing and walking to Hermione's door, "I'm going to tell Severus right now, " Draco paused and then turned to look Hermione in the eye, "Either you can come and tell him yourself or I'll go alone."

Hermione walked over to Draco so that they stood mere inches apart. She sized him up and then said, "Do you honestly believe this?"

"Yes, and I'll prove it to you if you'd like."

Hermione's hand instinctively went to her abdomen.

"It's perfectly safe. I promise you." His sincerity sent chills up her spine.

She stood there for another moment and then slowly stepped back and pulled her hand away.

"_Expono posui_," Draco said with a flick of his wand in her direction.

Instantly a tiny pinprick of light appeared, glowing from inside Hermione's belly. "_Finite Incantatum_," he whispered, "Satisfied?"

Hermione stood there for what felt like an eternity, completely frozen in shock. Draco walked over to her and put a hand on her arm. She didn't even flinch at his touch. For one of the first times since she'd met him, Draco seemed lost for words. He finally managed, "Do you want me to walk you down?" When Hermione didn't respond, Draco added, "This won't be as bad as you think. You just need to see someone about it."

She began to shake ever so slightly, "What the fuck do you know? Don't make this simple, Malfoy, because it's not."

"This isn't a choice you should make alone. Go talk to him." The almost empathetic tone seemed odd coming out of his mouth.

"Why do you care?" she demanded.

"I told you, I'm the head boy and I want to know how much of your slack I'm going to have to pick up," Draco said.

Hermione stared into Draco's eyes intently. "I don't believe that for a minute."

"The rest isn't for me to tell, Granger. Let's go."

With a moment's hesitation, she turned and walked out the door.

* * *

The two took the passageways back to the main corridors and then proceeded to the dungeons. They walked amiably side by side with Hermione standing a little closer than she usually would have.

When they arrived at Snape's office, Draco looked to her and squeezed her arm in silence. Hermione knocked on the door and turned back, to see that Draco had already vanished around the corner. 

An irritable, "Come in," reached her ears and she pushed the door open.

Snape glanced up long enough to acknowledge her presence with a nod.

"We need to talk," she blurted out. That sounded horribly cliché.

"And what specifically do we need to discuss?" He now raised his eyes to meet her, but did not pin her with his trademark piercing glare. Admittedly, her presence was unusual. She hadn't been in here since that night when she sneaked back to Gryffindor tower to make her excuses. Their relationship had returned to its previous state with a fair measure of new civility. This relationship, however, did not allow for such spontaneous interruptions.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Hermione asked.

"No."

Hermione warded the room against intrusion and sat in the chair furthest from Snape.

"We have a problem," she stated.

"I am not one to spend all day talking around a subject, Miss Granger."

That voice still shook her. Even as her skin began to burn and her nose developed an itch, she felt drawn to him. And that turned out so well last time, too. 

"I'm pregnant."

"Congratulations, Miss Granger, you've managed to conceive a child out of wedlock. Have you told the father?"

"Yes."

"And you are speaking to me about this because?"

"He seems to be in denial."

A dawning look crossed Snape's face and his gaze turned colder. "I am not sure what you're playing at, Miss Granger, but I assure you I am in no mood for games."

"No games, Professor. Congratulations."

"Don't be ridiculous!" he hissed, rising to his feet, glaring at her over the desk. "I cast the contraception charm myself. I assure you it was correct." He pushed down the little voice that had been nagging him since his visit to the infirmary. That rash- he had seen it- but dismissed it as a normal allergy. It could be anything, really, and Severus Snape did not make silly charms mistakes.

"I'm not sure of the details, but I assure you there are no other possibilities." Hermione asserted.

They fixed each other with their gazes. And then, Hermione did the only thing that came to her. She strode across the room, dodged the desk and grabbed Snape's hand. She placed it on her arm and instantly an inflamed rash began to spread across her flesh.

Snape's eyes grew slightly wider. "You can't be serious."

"Try me," Hermione responded, pulling away from his touch.

He paused for a moment and then drew his wand. Hermione didn't flinch, but stood her ground, waiting for him to cast.

"_Apertum Conceptionis_."

A wind came up, spiraling around Hermione and whipping her hair wildly. The wind formed into a small funnel that held Hermione in its grasp momentarily and then moved from her. Between her and Snape it hovered, disturbing nothing in the room other than Hermione's hair and garments. As she gazed into the cloud, the air became opaque and then formed a series of digits.

__

25.12 19:24

Then the room was still. It took her a moment to realize that she had been looking at a date and time. He stared at her for a moment before he spoke. "What exactly did you put in that potion you gave me?"

"It has a very long ingredient list. Why do you ask?"

"Because I cast the contraception charm on myself, not on you."

"You cast the male contraception charm? It's archaic."

"It is considered courteous in the wizarding world, Miss Granger, to cast the contraception charm on oneself. While the age of a particular charm does not render it ineffective, I believe one of the ingredients in your potion may have."

"Either that or your weakened magical abilities caused the charm to fail. Hesitant to admit your own fallibility, Professor?"

Snape's glare deepened, but he did not rise to her remark. With only a moment's hesitation he said, "Come back in three days. By then I can have the appropriate potion ready."

She stood there, unsure what to say, quite insecure with the entire situation.

"I'm sorry that you will be inconvenienced in this way, Miss Granger. You may go."

And she found her voice. "I never asked for a potion."

"Excuse me?"

"A potion. I never asked for one."

"Miss Granger, you cannot seriously be considering carrying this pregnancy to term."

"Quite frankly, I don't know what I'm considering, Professor. I've known about this pregnancy for all of an hour. I'm not ready to make any decisions yet."

"Allow me to impress upon you that this is not the best time nor situation for you to start a family. I suggest you accept my offer and resolve this issue as soon as possible."

"And allow me to impress upon you that I need time to think."

"Be reasonable. This cannot possibly end well for anyone involved."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable, Severus. I've seen enough death in the last few months to know better than to take this lightly."

He stood looking at her, taken aback at the change of name. "What did you call me?"

"Severus. Draco used it and, considering the circumstances, I see no reason that I shouldn't as well."

"Draco is a completely different situation."

"Meaning he's more intimately involved with you than the woman carrying your child?"

"It's not a child. It's a possibility. A possibility that doesn't have a place in this world. You need to understand this, _Hermione_, before you do any _thinking_," Snape spat, voice approaching its signature snarl.

"What do you mean _no place_?"

Silence fell and his entire body seemed to be appraising her. After a moment he apparently judged her worthy of whatever was on his mind. "Sit down." He gestured unceremoniously to a chair across the room and then settled behind his desk. The whole situation eerily reminded her of having detention in this exact same office. "I'll try to make this brief so as not to irritate your allergies any more than necessary…"

She nodded and watched raptly as he proceeded.

"I'm sure you are aware of the fact that many pureblood families are proud of their heritage. They believe in preserving it, passing on their legacy."

"Are you saying that this baby isn't good enough for you?" Her eyes screamed at him despite a quiet tone.

"No, Hermione, allow me to finish. I do not care about pureblood nonsense as I planned never to produce an heir." Hermione made a noise, but he continued. "There are those, however, who would take issue with my lineage as it reflects on their own family name."

"Such as?"

"Namely Lucius Malfoy. I assume you're acquainted."

"Why, exactly, does Lucius Malfoy care about your line, Severus?"

Closing his eyes with a soft sigh, the potions master replied, "Because I'm a Malfoy."

Pausing a moment to digest this, she said, "Your mother was a Malfoy?"

"Good guess, Hermione, but my mother was in fact a Snape."

"Then why use her name?"

"After the execution of our father and the fall of Voldemort, it was unwise to use the name Malfoy for political reasons. Lucius had enough clout to pull it off; I preferred to maintain a lower profile."

"Lucius is your brother?"

"Half-brother. I would imagine you've heard the name 'bastard' applied to me numerous times without guessing the accuracy of it."

Hermione didn't even pause at this, "But if you're a bas- half-brother, then presumably he's the main family line. Why does he care?"

"Beyond the social faux pas within his circle, there are more concrete concerns. When my father died, he left behind him two sons of which he was sincerely proud, two young death eaters rapidly rising in his lord's ranks. Despite the fact that my mother was his mistress, he made an effort after his wife's untimely passing to include me in the family. So much so that on his death, he bequeathed me the family name."

"Excuse me? He did what?"

"It's an archaic thing, really. Wizarding families usually pass title and wealth through the eldest son. Centuries ago, when most wizards took this process seriously, it was a problem if a wizard failed to produce a legitimate male heir that lived to maturity. In that instance he could leave the family title, and estate, to anyone he chose. Often this would be an illegitimate son or a grandson. Occasionally it was also done when was there was already a male heir, if there were concerns about his suitability. Frankly, it was quite practical and had the muggles adopted the practice, Henry VIII would have required far fewer wives. Despite the outdated nature of this practice, my father left me as heir-in-common with Lucius, should anything happen to either of us while fighting for Voldemort."

"So you are actually a Malfoy heir?"

"I am legally Severus Septimius Malfoy. Snape is the name I was born with, and now use socially."

"That would make this child-"

"Draco's cousin, and an equal heir to the Malfoy estate. I doubt very much Lucius would allow that to happen."

"If he knows."

"Hermione, this castle is safe. But you must understand that no fortress is impenetrable. Secrets have ways of making their way into the wrong hands and the wrong hands, in this case, are not ones to be trifled with."

"I need time."

"How much?"

Hermione paused. How long does it take to make the biggest decision of one's life? She guessed at terms he might accept. "Two weeks."

He looked at her with scrutiny and then replied, "I will refrain from telling anyone, including the Headmaster, for two weeks providing you agree to do the same."

Hermione nodded. It had been months since she'd spent any real time with her friends and she couldn't quite imagine having this conversation with Harry or Ron, or even Ginny for that matter. _"So guys, I'm pregnant with Snape's baby. What do you think I should do?" _

"I would still encourage you, Hermione, to make this decision as quickly as possible. The longer you wait, the more risk you will bear taking the potion."

This time Hermione frowned, but once again nodded at the professor as she rose from her chair. Walking towards the door, she paused and turned. "I'll come to see you when I've made my decision."

It was Severus' turn to nod and Hermione let herself out the door.

* * *

"_Crucio_!"

Blond hair flew across the stone floor like a possessed dust mop as its owner writhed in his own world of fraying nerves. Somewhere in the depths of his mind he was thinking, _It's only been two weeks since the last summons. Something's wrong. Very wrong._

"_Finite Incantatum_," the voice slithered out of the shadows. "Malfoy, my lost sheep."

The slim body before him shook, both from fear and pain. Almost slipping and looking into his master's eyes, Malfoy snapped his head downward. "I know not of what you speak, my lord."

"Do not lie to me, infant. I know you keep company with our resident traitor."

"It is but to gain his trust so that I may spy on him, my lord."

"You think I do not see your deception?" The voice came closer and began to circle its victim.

"My lord, I swear-"

"_Crucio_!"

This time Malfoy screamed as his already frazzled nerves twitched under the new stimulation. His words came out a garbled scream. "Please, my lord-"

"_Finite Incantatum_."

"You have yet to bring me anything useful. Your uncle may yet have use for my cause, despite his wayward path. You, my young maggot, have yet to display anything I could possibly want. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, what do you offer me for you life?"

Now trembling on the cold floor, Malfoy wracked his clouded brain for something that might save him, return him to Hogwarts' sanctuary in anything other than a winding sheet. "Severus-"

"Yes? I know of his treachery. I do not see what you offer me, child."

"His loyalty."

The voice stopped moving and hovered terrifyingly close. "And how do you propose to give me this?"

"A hostage, my lord."

"I can think of no one he would value enough, boy, short of Dumbledore himself. Surely you do not think you can take on that old man, undeserving weakling that you are?"

Malfoy pulled himself to his knees, nearly passing out from the effort. "No, my lord, not the old man. Severus' child, my lord. His heir."

The hissing was now so close the air hummed with it. "Do not take me for a fool. He has no heir."

"Not yet my lord. She is still with child."

A wand now hovered at Malfoy's throat. "If you lie to me, worm, you will die more horribly than the death I offer you this night."

"Yes, my lord."

"Bring her to me. The one who carries his child."

"Yes, my lord."

"And just to make sure your loyalties stay true, Malfoy- _Imperio_."

* * * * *

Author's Notes: The concept of prenatal allergies is not my own. It belongs to Ebony aka AngieJ and her H/H fic "Paradise Lost" which can be found on[Schnoogle][1]. Billy Joel's song "And So It Goes" can be found on his album _Storm Front_. All spells are created (poorly, due to my own shortcomings with Latin) using the University of Notre Dame's archives.

HUGE THANKS goes to my betas for this chapter, MonteLukast, Deb and Chelle. You guys are amazing and I couldn't do it without you! Thanks also to my betas-in-waiting, Nancy, Shii and Christine. My husband, Mike, deserves recognition for being the wonderfully supportive man that he is. Thank you also to my friends Katie, Jessica, Tasneem, Malaika, Evangeline, Jonathan, Matt, Erik and Erin for all their encouragement! 

A final word of thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review this story, namely linnetio, InLoveWithSirius, lexyeheavyn, Lil Angel, Erica, Sevi Snape, Potions Mistress, lovewithnoface, and lisadupire. Huge apologies to anyone I missed- I tried to get everyone there. It makes my day when someone takes the time to give me constructive feedback! 

Please be a responsible reader and review!

This piece can be found on [WIKTT][2], [Fanfiction.net][3], and [Dark Sarcasm][4].

Comments, questions and constructively snarky remarks can also be sent directly to me at [cynthiaweasley@yahoo.com][5].

   [1]: http://www.schnoogle.com/
   [2]: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/whenikissedtheteacher
   [3]: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1077055
   [4]: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/darksarcasm
   [5]: mailto:cynthiaweasley@yahoo.com



	5. Chapter 4 My Worst Mistake

Author's Notes: Adult fanfic. Adult audiences only. JKR's. All of it (minus the plot, of course). Thank you to everyone who's still along for the ride! Your kind reviews inspired me to get on with it and write this chapter. 

**__**

Chapter 4 My Worst Mistake

"But if my silence made you leave  
Then that would be my worst mistake  
So I will share this room with you  
And you can have this heart to break"

-"And So It Goes" by Billy Joel

Hermione lay on her bed, her mind running wild. Hours had turned into days, which had brilliantly transfigured themselves into two weeks until she lay there with her mind screaming into its own abyss.

__

Oh gods, what have I done? How many times have I been told? Warned? Responsible girls don't get themselves into this position. Once, just once I wanted to be young and free and anything other than myself. And here I am.

I know what I should do. I've always known what to do. Smart girls don't have babies at eighteen. It's a ridiculous proposition, really. No money, no job, not enough education. Everything I've worked for straight down the toilet. And I've worked so hard. It would be so easy… Or would it?

I can still feel the chill of Penelope's boys' skin. So young, so fragile, so lifeless. There is too much death in this world. Needless death. Young lives gone without so much as a thought on the part of their thief. I will not be one of them. This is a life, and death, I can control. This is a death I can prevent. But is it a death? Really?

Yes. Yes, it must be. Because even if I never hold this child, I will know what might have been. It's the death of an idea if nothing else. A powerful idea that could torment me for the rest of my days. But what right do I have to bring a child into this hell we call existence? His own family doesn't want him. He will be a pawn between the light and dark, lost to history as a name and nothing more. I feel sure of this.

If this life is to be, to come to fruition, then there must be conditions. No one can ever know, not even him. He must go out into this world with a different name, a different place than fate would deal him. Surely there are families out there with holes to be filled, extra seats at the table left empty by evil. Let this child fill one of those places, just one. Let this child bring joy where his own family has brought sorrow. Let this child grow to know the wonder that can be life, without ever knowing who first chose to give the gift.

* * *

"Granger!" the voice rang down the hall after the trudging Hermione.

Without turning around she replied, "Yes, Malfoy?"

The young man easily caught up to her. "I'm going to Hogsmeade this afternoon to pick up some supplies for Severus. Perhaps you'd like to join me?"

"Hmmm…Studying for N.E.W.T.s or dragging myself down to Hogsmeade with the Head Git? Think I'll pass. Thanks."

"Come now, Granger. You've been cooped up for two weeks."

"Malfoy, we've all been cooped up. No more Hogsmeade weekends, remember?"

"But _we_ have clearance to leave with permission. Come on, your color's been looking off. You need fresh air."

"My color? Please. Since when have you looked closely at anyone other than Parkinson?"

He grabbed her arm gently and turned her to look at him. "Granger, stop playing coy. We both know why. I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

"Keep your hands to yourself. The last time I let a Malfoy touch me there were unpleasant consequences," she stated in a low voice, shrugging him off.

"Stop it, Granger," Malfoy hissed. "I'm not Severus and I'm not the one who got you into this mess. Just trying to look after our own."

"And who said I'm one of your own? I never promised to carry your bloody cousin, Malfoy."

"And yet you haven't told Severus differently. Today's your deadline, is it not?"

"How did you know that?"

"He cancelled his office hours tonight. I figured he planned to spend the night talking you into his potion."

"He's brewed it already?" she gasped, barely audible.

"No. But the cauldron's been set up in his personal lab for two weeks."

She shook her head and backed herself against the nearest wall for support.

"Come with me, Granger. Clear your head. You need your strength either way."

Hermione looked at him skeptically and then held his cool eyes for a moment before asking, "What time?"

"Two o'clock. I'll meet you by the gates."

Hermione nodded and then continued on her way to the hospital wing for some Saturday morning research.

* * *

"Hermione!"

The voice was unmistakable and Hermione looked up with a smile. "Ginny. I haven't seen your face around here in awhile."

"It's been a little crazy, you know. What with trying to get Harry and Ron to study for the N.E.W.T.s and all."

"You're badgering the impossible Quidditch fanatics?"

"Of course! Someone's got to do it with you down here all the time," Ginny said with a sly little smile. "Plus, I've got a personal interest in Harry actually graduating."

"Oh, Ginny! Am I that out of touch? That's wonderful!"

"Come to lunch with me, Hermione. We haven't talked in so long. Tell me about your work and I'll fill you in on all the Gryffindor gossip."

Hermione paused. She really should keep working. But her afternoon and evening were blown anyway and she hadn't seen Ginny in so long… "All right then. How about a picnic in Greenhouse #3?"

"That's a great idea! I'll go see the house elves about some food and then I'll come get you. Now finish up with all that work, young lady! I expect you to have a spotless lab bench by the time I return or it's five points from Gryffindor!" Her last sentence was lilted to a fairly close approximation of Snape's chastisements and Hermione shivered as Ginny left for the kitchens.

* * *

The spread was impressive, really. The house elves had outdone themselves for Fred and George's little sister and packed so much food that a reduction charm had been necessary before Ginny could carry it all. Egg and mayonnaise, ham salad and roast beef sandwiches were accompanied by homemade pickles, crisps and cookies plus a flask of pumpkin juice and a few pieces of fruit for good measure.

"This could feed all of Gryffindor tower!" Hermione exclaimed as Ginny continued to pull food out of the basket and place it on the workbench they'd covered with a blanket. In the back of her mind Hermione wondered if the house elves somehow knew she was eating for two, but shoved the thought back. 

"You haven't been eating well, anyway. You're getting thinner every day," Ginny said as she pulled up a drum of fertilizer to sit on.

Hermione, already sitting, frowned and reached for a sandwich. "It's kind of hard with all my research."

"Still, Hermione. You should take some time off. My mind always works better when I take breaks now and then."

"I suppose. That's why I'm here, isn't it?" Hermione said with a grin.

Ginny returned the smile and took a bite of a large pickle. The two girls sat eating in companionable silence. As she ate Hermione found her thoughts returning to the child inside her. She hadn't told anyone yet, aside from Snape and Draco. She'd promised not to, but the secret would be out soon enough with her decision. Sitting here with Ginny reminded Hermione of how lonely she had been, and how much she just needed to have someone listen. "Ginny?"

"Hmmm?" the red head replied through a mouthful of roast beef.

"Something's happened."

Ginny raised her eyebrows but continued munching.

"I haven't told many people about it, but I'd like you to be one of the first to know."

Meeting her eyes, Ginny reached across the workbench and took Hermione's hand in hers. "What is it, Hermione?" The girl's sincerity almost reduced Hermione to tears. At that moment she realized that she hadn't cried yet. Perhaps it was better that way.

"I'm going to have a baby."

Ginny's mouth dropped open slightly but she recovered admirably. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good right now. I'm not due until September."

"So you're-"

"Yes. I've decided to give it up for adoption."

"You're amazing, Hermione."

"How's that?"

"That's so brave- carrying a baby through seventh year and the N.E.W.T.s."

"Thanks, Ginny. It doesn't feel that way but I'll take your word for it."

A silence pooled around them before Ginny dove in. "Does he know?"

"Yes. But he doesn't know of my decision."

"What does he want?"

"He won't be happy with my decision to say the least. This was all just an 'indiscretion' that he'd like to sweep under the rug."

"I see."

"Ginny," Hermione said, looking beseechingly into the other girl's eyes, "I can't tell you who. Not yet. Please understand. It's just-"

"It's okay, Hermione." Ginny paused, biting her lip in a close approximation of Hermione's own habit. "I just have to know one thing-"

"It's not Ron," Hermione said with something approaching a grin. "And no, it's not Harry either."

At this Ginny broke out into nervous laughter as she squeezed Hermione's hand. The laughter spread and before they knew it the two girls were both laughing uncontrollably. Choking through her laughs, Hermione managed to spit out, "Oh, Ginny. If you only knew…" But the words that were intended to provoke more laughter caught in her throat as her eyes caught Ginny's. 

"It's okay, Hermione. I'm here for you, even if the baby's a Malfoy." Ginny had tried to bring back the light mood but her words caught a nerve, ripping out tears too close to the surface of Hermione's eyes.

Then Hermione found herself wrapped in Ginny's arms as the two slid to the floor of Greenhouse #3. 

* * *

"What's wrong, Granger?"

"Nothing, Malfoy. Let's just go," Hermione replied as she joined Draco at the front gates, her face still slightly puffy.

"Broken heart, perhaps? Must admit Severus isn't what you'd call the sensitive type."

"Shut it," Hermione replied, shoving past him and striding off down the path.

Draco caught up to her and the two walked in a tense silence. As they approached a turn in the path, blocking themselves from the view of both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, Draco reached for her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I mean, someone in this family should at least be civil to you."

Hermione turned to meet his gaze at this. "What's come over you, Malfoy? Going soft in your old age?" But the words barely made it past her lips. With a quick "_Stupefy_!" she fell into Draco's arms as they apparated away.

* * *

The strong glamors cast about the cavernous room gave the illusion of a room decked in heavy green velvet and cold steel. Even the elaborate enchantments, however, could not quite mask the scent of rotten meat lurking in the corners. Shadows obscured most of the area, but one could sense the evil presence hovering. On approach, the rasping breath and beady eyes could be made out in the heavy air. If oppression was a place, surely this was it.

"Severus."

The tall figure dropped to his knees and bade greeting, "My lord."

"It has been a while, my servant."

"Indeed, my lord."

"I require your services."

"Of course, my lord."

"And I've secured some insurance of your efforts this time, my wayward one."

"My lord?"

"Do not think me blind. I see your dealings with the other side and know how you tarnish the name _Malfoy_."

Snape stayed silent at this. If Voldemort had really discovered his treason, the game was up and he was dead. If not, a vehement denial may be as good as a confession.

"But back to my insurance. Do you wish to see her, Severus?"

"_Her_, my lord?"

"Perhaps _them_ would be more appropriate."

__

Them? The ideas rattled around in Snape's mind but he kept his silence.

"Follow me. Once you have seen the stakes, perhaps you will be more willing to help your master with his newest project."

* * *

Her cell was dim, the walls made completely of stone. The dungeon, though, had been charmed to resist damp and chill so that the climate was fairly tolerable. Hermione lay on a bed in the corner while candles burned on a small table in the center of the room.

Snape stood there looking in through Voldemort's revealing spell and felt his heart sink. She'd told someone, and apparently was a poor judge of character to have relayed the information to someone close to the dark lord. No matter who, now. She was here, and so was he. Apparently unharmed except for her state of deep sleep, he counted these small blessings. If the pregnancy terminated he would feel no great loss, but her life on his conscience was something Snape would have liked to avoid.

"Bastards must be a family tradition, Severus. But I must express my disappointment in your choice of whores. A nothing mixing with such an old family line. It's a shame. But if it returns you to my fold, so be it."

"What do you ask of me, my lord?"

"I ask you for your skills, Severus. You are still my strongest person in the field of potions. We have a charm nearly perfected that we need distilled into a potion."

"A poison, my lord?"

"Of sorts."

"My lord?"

"It takes the victim's magical power and uses it to power the curse."

"How is this accomplished, my lord?"

"For now we are treating the men's wands with a potion. We would like to be able to obtain this same result in combination with existing potions."

"Of course, my lord."

"I will send you the details tonight, Severus. The lives before you depend on your results."

* * *

"Albus, we have a problem."

Snape had clearly been expected as the door to the headmaster's office had swung wide for him, rather than requiring a password.

"Hermione Granger." The words escaped Dumbledore's lips before Snape even had a seat. "How is she, Severus?"

"As good as can be expected." Snape replied, giving no indication how much the headmaster's near-omniscience unsettled him.

"Have they harmed her?"

"Beyond holding her against her will, no."

Dumbledore nodded. "How soon until we can get her out?"

"It may be some time. She is being held in a well-secured facility and Voldemort is attempting to use her as a bargaining tool."

"As I expected. How long will she be safe?"

"For a while, at least."

"What else is there, Severus?" Dumbledore's eyes probed him cautiously.

"There's a further complication."

"Yes?"

"She's pregnant."

"I thought you said they had not harmed her."

Severus sighed quietly as he prepared to submit himself to the headmaster's wrath. "They haven't harmed her, Albus. Her condition was present at the time she was taken."

"I see." Albus paused to contemplate the new information. "How far along?"

"Two months."

"The father?"

"I am the father."

"Severus," Dumbledore said rather sternly, "there's no need to protect the father. He will not suffer persecution at my hands."

"I do not seek to protect the culprit when I, in fact, am he."

The silence stretched out as Dumbledore searched Snape's face for any signs that he could be protecting someone. With none found he replied, "I see."

"If you ask for my resignation I will tender it immediately."

"We will deal with that when Miss Granger is returned to us. Until then I require you here."

"As you see fit, Albus."

"Have you two decided what you will do?"

"We haven't had a chance to discuss it." Or rather, she hasn't had time to see reason, Snape added to himself.

"What do _you_ want?" Dumbledore asked, reaching for the candy dish on his desk.

"I don't know. Needless to say this was not planned."

"How long, Severus?" The headmaster looked up from the candy dish to look Snape in the eye.

"An indiscretion. A single err in judgment. I hardly know the girl, Albus."

"I suggest you remedy that as soon as you can. You have a difficult decision to make with this _young woman_." Albus held his gaze as he continued, "Get her out of there, Severus. For her sake, and your child's." 

Snape cringed inwardly at this last sentiment. As he got up to leave, Albus returned to digging through his candy dish. "Congratulations, Severus." The words troubled Snape all the way to the dungeons. 

* * *

A knock echoed in his chamber. Succinct, efficient and completely signature.

"Come in, Minerva."

The prim witch walked through the door carrying a single item. "I found this the last time I visited my sister," McGonagall said, gesturing to the scotch tucked in the crook of her arm.

"Albus told you."

"He said you might appreciate an ear turned your way," she replied, settling in the chair across from Snape. The two of them held a tenuous peace. Secretly, both suspected the biggest obstacles to a closer relationship were their own similarities and stubbornness. Even so, as two solitary fighters in their second war together, they did seek one another out at times.

McGonagall summoned two highballs and poured them both a stout portion of liquor. Banishing Snape's toward his chair on the other side of the fire, she ventured, "This isn't regarding Him, is it?"

"For once I wish it was."

"That bad, Severus?"

"I may be a father."

"May?"

"She's due in September."

"I see. You don't appear to be taken with the idea," she said taking a long drink from her glass.

"I don't even know her, Minerva. And I doubt she wants to be tied to me for the rest of her years."

"Children aren't that bad."

He arched his eyebrows at this and she snorted in response.

"I must admit the idea of getting the next Snape in my class is less than thrilling," McGonagall smirked.

"You forget. I'm not a Snape any longer."

"Severus, you never changed your name back?"

"I didn't think it wise considering the possibility that I might once again require Lucius as my ally."

"I can't say that the thought of another Malfoy joining Slytherin is heartwarming, either."

"Who said Slytherin?"

"You mean she's not?" McGonagall asked incredulously.

"Believe it or not, Minerva, not just power hungry death eaters throw themselves at me," Snape replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What's your bet then?"

Pausing to contemplate the question and swirl his drink, Snape replied, "Ravenclaw," with the slightest wince.

"To the first Malfoy in Ravenclaw," Minerva said, raising her glass.

"To Ravenclaw."

And they drank.

* * *

"Riddle."

"Yes?"

"_Crucio_." The voice, cold as a winter's wind sweeping across the North Sea, cast its epithet at the serpentine creature before it. The little human left in Tom Riddle's body twitched at the curse, but the pain did not wrack him as it would an ordinary wizard.

"Is that the best you can do?" taunted Voldemort.

"_Finite Incantatum_." The wizard viewed Voldemort with detachment and distaste. "You've gone too far this time, Riddle."

"Just try to tell me what to do now," Voldemort spat back. "My powers have surpassed even your father's expectations."

"And my father is dead."

"Exactly, little one."

"_Eculeus Supramorphem_."

This time screams ripped through the chamber. No one was left in the castle to hear their lord scream. Even if they were, they would not likely have believed these boyish screams to be coming from their powerful master. "Arrogant fool," muttered the wizard as he approached Voldemort's twitching form. "_Finite Incantatum_."

The wizard, dressed impeccably in black velvet robes and dragonhide boots, stooped only as much as was necessary for him to force his wand against Voldemort's throat. "You've crossed the line this time, Riddle. You do not touch our family."

"You do not command me. I am your elder," spat Voldemort from his spot on the floor.

"Be that as it may, my father created you, Riddle. He gave you everything you needed and how have you repaid us? By taking one of our own. You will release her at once."

"She's a mudblood. Surely you don't care for her," Voldemort snarled.

"Don't be ridiculous," said the wizard, his wand digging more sharply into Voldemort's throat. "She means nothing. But her child is one of our own and we will not stand for it to be harmed."

"And if I do not release her?"

"I will destroy you, Riddle, as I should have the night you took reincarnation into your own hands."

"I dare you to destroy me," Voldemort hissed. "Without me your plans, your father's plans, will be fruitless. The child will mean nothing."

"You are disposable. Never forget that," the wizard replied evenly as he cast another spell towards the creature kneeling at his feet and left it screaming in pain.

* * * * *

Author's notes: The title belongs to Billy Joel. See _Storm Front_ for further information.

Huge thanks to my amazing betas, Deborah, MonteLukast, Christine, Chelle and Shii. Susanna (aka pigwidgeon37) must also be duly thanked for her help in creating the spell you see in the last scene. Thank you, as always, to my wonderful husband Mike who is so amazingly patient that he doesn't bat an eyelash when I throw myself into one mad project after another. Finally, thanks to all my wonderful friends, namely Tasneem, Jessica, Jonathan, Malaika, Evangeline, Katie, Maggie, Peggy, Erin, Elizabeth and Nikki.

Please be a responsible reader and review!

This piece can be reviewed on Whispers and FanFiction.net. 

Comments, questions and constructively snarky remarks may also be sent to cynthiaweasley@yahoo.com.


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